


Distances II: Invented

by RhetoricFemme



Series: Team [4]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Ouran High School Host Club - Freeform, a peek inside kyoya's notebook, kaoru hitachiin - Freeform, kyokao, kyouya ootori - Freeform, kyoya ootori - Freeform, kyoya/kaoru, making up after breakup, ohshc, teamverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricFemme/pseuds/RhetoricFemme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaoru searches for answers several months after he and Kyoya have separated, and only hours after they've come back together. // Taking place somewhere in the midst of Chapter 6, this is the final installment in the Teamverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distances II: Invented

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for reading! More notes at the bottom. <3

**_There's a cinematic end / I picture it just right / Having trouble with those right words / But you tell me with your eyes / There's something good I miss / Something I can't find / Do you believe me, me now? / Can you see it in my eyes?_ **  
**-Invented, Jimmy Eat World**

/ /

By the time Kaoru opens his eyes, the sun has almost entirely set beneath the skyline. Thirty minutes he's laid here, now, listening to the flow of the shower descend over his favorite set of broad, travel-weary shoulder blades. His own breathing has finally evened out, which he confirms with a slow, worn-out exhale of breath. He's given himself permission to slow down with Kyoya's arrival, if only for a little while.

Kaoru needs this. _They_ need this, and so he does his best to keep the bed warm while Kyoya gathers his mind whilst washing layer after layer of sweat away.

Enough time has passed for Kaoru to reacquaint himself with every last tooth and nail mark left in his side. It's still not enough to digest that any of this is honestly _real_.

He licks his lips, and comes away with hours of sex and tears still clinging to his taste buds. Though he needn't look down to find evidence of their day still clinging to his thighs, Kaoru does so anyway. _This_ is his proof of reprieve—his rock solid evidence that this world offers second chances even to the most undeserving of hearts.

In the course of a day, one emotion continues to fall into another, and it's left the two of them spent after months of physical inaction. Still, a certain excitement keeps Kaoru's chest alight each time he thinks of this renewed chance at a shared life with the man he unequivocally loves.

Alas. Despite it all, Kaoru requires _more_. Forgiveness is a most fortunate virtue, though he'll always believe that forgetfulness—especially in an Ootori—is the most foolish of lies. And so he lies in wait, his skin of gooseflesh as he hears the water shut off, and the most intimidating of questions edges to the front of his lips.

Within seconds Kyoya appears. Bliss and fatigue are apparent on his steam-softened face as he removes a damp towel from proud hips, placing it instead at the join of Kaoru's thighs with a tsk.

"You fell asleep." He muses, "Rather disgusting, isn't it? And still oddly attractive on your—"

"—did you bring any notebooks with you?"

Kyoya trails the towel slowly across Kaoru's hips, each swipe of cloth loving. Deliberate. It's a calculated move, meant to counter the apprehension laced into the way he answers one question with another.

" _Why?_ "

His request out, Kaoru counts on the sincerity and allure in his eyes to coax from Kyoya something he's always wanted, but under less dire circumstances would never dare ask for.

"I want some scope." That initiate voice, once so strong, quickly tapers with each word that escapes Kaoru's mouth, "Of what I did to you."

"Kao—"

"I know what I'm asking from you," Kaoru's emotional dexterity takes front and center, his composed, serious expression outdone only by the tremor in his voice. "Please?"

Kyoya answers in silence, looking down at the only person he's ever deemed suitable to share every other part of himself with, and meets desperate, somber eyes.

"To answer your initial question: yes. I have one with me." Kyoya watches as Kaoru's face lights, therein raising his voice to shoot his expectations down. "And you don't want it."

Kaoru sighs, but edges closer, nestling his forehead into a long-sought crook of his lover's neck.

"Kyo…"

He's cut off by warm lips against his own, while a blanket parachutes above their bodies as Kyoya closes the space between the two of them. Light cotton and goose down settle over the pair before either one dare let go. Kyoya turns the petulant man in his arms around to face the window before enveloping him in a solid, uncompromising embrace. Kyoya's voice in Kaoru's ear is on par with the way that the sun has swathed the room in patterns of shadow and gold.

"You're heading back to Madrid in the morning, yes?"

Kaoru hums in response.

"If it means that much to you, ask again. Tomorrow."

"As if you'll be awake at five in the morning."

Quiet laughter infiltrates the room, and it blisses Kaoru out to have heard it so many times in a single day.

"Mm. Text me your schedule. You know I'll find you."

"I know."

With that, the two of them settle into old places. Commitment renewed and senses invigorated, they set aside words for the rest of the day.

/ /

Come daybreak, Kaoru decides he'll survive just fine without Kyoya's notebook, deeming it best to leave the issue alone. He looks down onto the still-sleeping Shadow King, and imagines all-encompassing exhaustion will have him sleeping well into the day. He feels nothing but remorse in knowing that by leaving now, it won't be long before the bed grows cold. It's too soon, Kaoru thinks, after all they've been through.

Alas. It is in the spirit of their arrangement, Kaoru reminds himself, to trust in the reciprocating promise that despite their echelon-climbing endeavors, that at the end of the day his beloved will be waiting for him, time and distance be damned. He breathes easy for their agreement, which he now enforces in spite of himself—if nothing else, then for the sake of reclaiming normalcy—and makes for the door. Not, of course, before raking a careful hand through Kyoya's adorably cowlicked hair.

He lets his hand rest at the crown of his Shadow King's head for one moment longer, and smiles a pained-yet-happy smile before quietly making for the exit.

_Some things'll never change._

Within moments, Kaoru has situated himself in the back of the town car hired to whisk him in the direction of fittings and meetings, and away from the people he so deeply loves.

/ /

It's an exhausting, exciting kind of day; the sort that rushes itself into a blur as Kaoru finds himself tending to any variety of pre-show minutiae, and it sets his heart ahead by several beats. An entire day goes by this way, and before Kaoru knows it he's spilling himself into this morning's town car all over again.

Not long into the drive, boredom picks at Kaoru, and he figures searching his duffle now is as good a time as any. Reaching inside, he's content to come away with either the sketchbook or novella he's brought along, and is suitably surprised when he grabs onto a volume of far greater interest, instead.

Blood eclipses the back of his throat. No thought is required in identifying the object he so delicately holds, wide-eyed and staring incredulously at the folded piece of paper peeking from the top of the black notebook's pages. Plucking the paper from its resting place, Kaoru unfolds it and promptly smiles for the neat pen strokes laid out in front of him. _For_ him. Oh, but it's been too long.

> Kaoru,
> 
> I'm trusting you to regard these writings for the outlet of reflection and release that they are. Sullen as some of the entries are, you won't find a single word of defeat, as there never came a point where I'd given up on us. Having said that, you have my blessing to read through at your leisure. If that's what you'd call it.
> 
> See you tonight. I love you.
> 
> -Kyoya.

The ink Kyoya's pressed indelibly into the page is as good as blood. Introspective questions, musings, and details account for the past three months. Kyoya shames himself for not seeing, while damning Kaoru for not speaking, and he decries the loss of their ikebana mug at his own hand.

Kaoru takes a breath.

Save for himself, with the likely addition of Tamaki and Haruhi, _this_ has been Kyoya's most steadfast friendship, without question surpassing all of them in certain intimacies and longevity. Kaoru understood years ago what the black notebook meant to his boyfriend; keeping it to himself that its purpose meant less about statistics, and more the vestige resource into which he could escape the Ootori stoicism expected of him throughout so much of his life.

Kaoru turns the page and tells himself he's ready for it—being the one whose absorbed words and utterances where there has never been anyone else.

And still, his heart folds in on itself for the entry—the one whose text reads erratic and sprawled—telling of flirtatious colleague invites. That they were not entirely unappealing, enough so to elicit a society-event kiss from another man able to see Kyoya for the treasure he is. Kaoru frowns deeply at the encounter, but finds respite in reading of Kyoya's disgust for the flippancy of high-tier liasons.

The remainder of the entry outlines less concern for his own activities, and more worry for how Kaoru has been spending his own days. While there is no doubt of their mutual sadness, would he find comfort laying with another? Kyoya writes of understanding, and that there could be no blame in demonstrating curiosity in another human being.

It comes out a wet, pathetic noise when Kaoru scoffs at the idea.

_Any dick can roll up in a suit, but I could only ever love you. I know that, now. It's always been you._

Closing the journal, Kaoru silently promises that the rest of their lives will be marked with him doing what he can to make up for the emotional intrusion he's caused the two of them.

He leaves off on a persevering entry written about halfway through the notebook's clean, uniform pages. Only a few entries occur after, all of them ramping up in positive, if not also introspective energy, as the date of Hikaru's wedding and Kaoru's fashion debut draw near. Despite everything he's already read, these being the most recent words, are the ones he wishes to sooth the most.

Kaoru spends the rest of the ride home skimming over some pages while rereading others. He'd asked for this, he reminds, as Kyoya's loyalty digs into him with its unyielding hold. There's comfort in the knowledge that Kyoya has held tight onto the idea of them.

/ /

The sun is well into its descent when Kaoru pulls up to the curb of his building, his body tired and mind weary. He doesn't spare a glance, but remembers to thank his driver whilst looking toward the window of the studio where he's toiled over professional and private matters alike. Each have managed to steal comfort and sleep from him in their own ways, though now he smiles in knowing that he goes home no longer a solitary man.

He heads toward the elevator, absently thumbing at the pages of Kyoya's journal whilst going over a list of limited, but pertinent work he should get to. As promised, Kyoya would undoubtedly be along soon, and there would be no good in fretting over loose ends and minutia when he was still trying to convince himself that any of this was real.

_Fake it 'til you make it, Kaoru. As if Kyo wouldn't notice…_

It'd seemed impossible to forget the feel of silkened, ebony hair between his fingers, or the inimitable scent he could only ever find at the base of his lover's neck; and yet last night had left him unabashedly consumed by all things Kyoya, as if for the first time ever.

Stepping off the elevator, Kaoru traipses silently down the corridor, and lets out a sigh of relief when his apartment comes into view. It takes a concerted effort to open the door, to extinguish that old sense of loneliness and malaise he's grown so accustomed to, and Kaoru takes a moment to allow the notion of his new-old reality to sink in. All of that changes, however, with a single step inside the apartment, and a shocked breath escapes Kaoru's lips.

Dropping the notebook with a stuttered expletive, Kaoru is more taken by the presence of Kyoya in his living room than he is by the mere sight of a person standing where there should be none. Oh, but how he appears so at home, here!

He moves to recover the black notebook—an item that's always held a certain status, that he'd become perhaps too intimately connected with during his commute home, to the point he'd needed to remind himself that it was not the last of his Kyoya.

_He's here. He hasn't changed his mind._

Kaoru only stops trembling once the journal has been taken from his grip, and replaced by something warmer and far more precious. He can't help but to succumb to laughter, throwing a punch into that steady, familiar shoulder before burying his wounded grin into the same place.

"Dammit, Kyoya!"

"You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?"

"I love you."

"Love you, too."

Kaoru's apartment is saturated in sheer tones of burgundy and orange. As with everything Kaoru's hands craft, the textiled beauty within his home sends a certain message, as every part of the palette has been chosen to bring calm at the end of each weary day. It's the best way he knows how to draw in the heart of each setting sun. To say nothing of this warmth in the midst of Kyoya's company; his face reflecting rays of new evening light, and… Well.

It's a brand of perfection Kaoru could never have anticipated, and he holds on now with an unyielding, white-knuckled grip. He's content enough to have no regrets, he thinks to himself, even if he were to die right here and now.

Alas. They've years ahead of themselves, he knows. And so, Kaoru sinks into the moment and savors the feeling of Kyoya's breath on his neck. Tomorrow will always lend itself the opportunity to work some more.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Ah, but it's been so long... This story has been floating in my head and on random pieces of paper for months now, and it's finally seeing fruition. I hope you enjoyed reading it!
> 
> This is a side piece to my story, Team, and also what I am certain is the final installment in the Teamverse. I'm finally content to move on into other Ouran verses that I've been working on for a while, now. Time permitting, that is... Ah-heh.
> 
> A note: Part of this story's title, as well as a line of text that Kaoru thinks to himself, are from the Jimmy Eat World song, Invented. This song was integral to the entire writing of Team, along with a few others. It kind of transitioned straight into this side piece, as well.
> 
> I hope this story finds you well. I really appreciate that you're here!


End file.
